


Like Any Other

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Cerebral Palsy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Like Any Other

It was such a misconception. Of course there were exceptions to the rule, but you had been living a joyous and fulfilling life since the day you were born - and many others did too. Your parents made sure of it. Whenever people questioned them about how they raised you, given your limited range of motion, they’d reply that they raised you how they would any other child - with love and acceptance. 

“Morning, love,” you said, craning your head around to face the man you loved. “Can you situate me in here?” With your lower half basically paralyzed with the exception of occasional twitches and spasms, you pushed off the bed with your arms (and Spencer’s help) and got situated in your Rifton system, which helped you move from your bed to the shower and bathroom with assistance. But this new system allowed for you to take care of things more on your own than you used to.

Spencer kissed the patch of skin behind your ear, whispering good mornings before pushing up off the bed and pushing the Rifton into the bathroom before leaving you. “All done,” you texted. “Help me. :)”

“You okay?” he asked, coming in to get you after a lengthy period of time that wasn’t usual for you. 

Some days were worse than others. Today was one of them. “Just took me a little bit longer than normal. I’m in a little bit more pain today, but I’m okay.” You looked up to see the soft smile on Spencer’s face, taking your hand, which was a bit more spasm-filled than it normally was, and caressing the side of his face. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do,” he said. He helped you to situated your clothing before taking you out to the specially crafted chair that allowed you to sit up comfortably. “Pancakes?”

He’d promised you the night before. Growing up, you never felt unloved - your parents were amazing people that gave you the best of what they had to offer. But as you grew older, you noticed that whenever people like you were portrayed in the media, they were shown to be pitied. They were shown as the people that if they were lucky enough to fall in love, it was in spite of their diagnosis - like the diagnosis was to be ignored to focus on everything else. Because of that, you’d been afraid for a long time that no one was ever going to love all of you - but then you met Spencer at a coffee shop. You fell for him the instant you looked up from your book, and apparently he’d done the same. “You promised me pancakes. Do we have bananas?”

“And chocolate chips,” he smiled, bending down to press a kiss to your lips before walking to the stove. “How did you sleep last night?”

One of the co-existing conditions that went along with your CP was sleep issues. You frequently woke up with nightmares or talked in your sleep, but you noticed that whenever Spencer was home and you fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you, those issues tended to lessen. “Not bad. I had my sexy love holding me, so I couldn’t be all that b-b-bad. Dammit. Sorry.”

“For the last time,” he said, walking up to you and kissing you on the head. “Stop saying sorry. It’s a stutter. Totally natural.”

“But it’s annoying as fuck,” you said, stuttering again and laughing. It was more than a little frustrating to have the learning capabilities, but still not be able to speak well. You had an articulation disorder, which included stuttering, that you worked on with a speech therapist twice a week. 

Ever since the two of you had moved in together, whenever he had to go to work, he’d drop you off at your parents’ house; he’d worked his schedule so that he could come in a little later and help you in the mornings. “I know and I’m sorry. But you don’t have to apologize.” As the pancakes were cooking to that perfect golden brown, he sat across from you, pulling your chair toward him so he could place another kiss on your rosy lips; this one was more desperate. “Hopefully, I won’t have a case and tonight we can have a little fun.”

“Yes, please,” you giggled, pointing your arm toward the pancakes. “And don’t burn my pancakes.”

“Oh, shit,” he laughed, hopping up and flipping them over. After you ate and reveled in the chocolate chips washing over your tongue, Spencer brought you inside and helped you to get changed. Every morning, he’d take care of the bottom and you’d get the top.

You pulled on a lacy black bra that latched in the front, making it much easier for you to dress. “Make sure my panties match,” you laughed, when he pulled out a similar style but different colored pair. “And now you can imagine me in this all day until you get home.”

“And I will be,” he mumbled against your chest. Finally, you were ready to be dropped off at your childhood home. Fifteen minutes later, your mother was there ready and waiting for you. “I’m sorry. I have to rush out. I’m a little late. But I love you, and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Love you too, Spence,” you said, watching as he turned and ran back out to the car. “See you tonight.”


End file.
